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Chapter 58: The Last Choice
Last Updated:
2025-07-24 23:59:40
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CROWNED BY BLOOD Chapter 59: Cursebearer
The cold wasn't just around me it was inside me, sewn into the marrow of my bones. Every breath I took felt like inhaling shards of winter. My limbs were stiff, my skin clammy and too tight over muscles that didn't feel like mine. I flexed my fingers, and the sound they made like frost snapping against old bark made my stomach turn.The crown, once a weight of honor, now felt like a shackle. I reached up to touch it, but my hand trembled. The gold was cracked along its spine, jagged like the pieces of myself I no longer recognized.Where was everyone?I pulled myself upright, knees shaking, bracing against the cold slab of the throne. The chamber echoed with my breath. No guards. No council. No distant footsteps or rustle of robes. Just silence and the faint scent of ash and iron lingering in the air.The silence pressed against my ears like water. I strained to hear anything that would tell me the world still turned beyond these walls. But there was nothing. Not even the distant clat
CROWNED BY BLOOD Chapter 58: The Last Choice
The darkness welcomed me this time.No resistance. No whispers warning me away. No hallucinations of Kai's voice, only silence, thick and waiting. The kind of silence that pressed against your bones and settled in your marrow like a promise of endings.I descended the crumbling spiral steps beneath Hollowshade as if they had always belonged to me. Each step felt familiar now. I had nothing left to trade but myself.Now I came not to weep but to surrender.My wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin, sensing danger, sensing the wrongness of this place that existed between worlds."I'm ready," I said aloud.My voice echoed strangely in the chamber, multiplying until it sounded like a chorus of broken queens all speaking the same words.No one answered.But something listened. I could feel its attention like cold fingers trailing down my spine, like eyes watching from the spaces between heartbeats.I took a step forward, hands trembling. The frost on the gate hissed at my warmth, recoiling
CROWNED BY BLOOD Chapter 57: Refusal
No one could help me.Not the fae who owed me blood debts stretching back centuries, their ethereal faces twisting with regret as they turned away from my pleas. Not the witches who once lit candles to my name in midnight rituals, their ancient covens falling silent when I spoke my children's names. Not even the priests who sang under starfall, their holy voices cracking as they glimpsed the darkness clinging to my soul like oil. All their wisdom, all their accumulated power, all their carefully hoarded rites useless against what consumed my children.I hadn't slept in three days. The marks beneath my eyes were not shadows anymore; they were bruises of grief carved deep into flesh, purple-black reminders of every sleepless hour spent watching my children fade. My hands trembled constantly now, a palsy born of desperation and magical exhaustion. And still, I searched. From twilight plains where reality bent like heated glass to astral vaults where knowledge crystallized into geometric
CROWNED BY BLOOD Chapter 56: The Forsaken Gate
The stone door loomed before me, breathing frost into the air like a dying god. Taller than any cathedral arch, broader than the Hall of Echoes, it pulsed faintly with a cold light buried deep within its black obsidian frame. The surface was carved with intricate reliefs that seemed to shift in my peripheral vision, faces that weren't quite faces, hands that grasped at nothing, mouths open in eternal screams that made no sound.The air around the door shimmered with unnatural cold. My breath came in white puffs that lingered too long in the still air.Kai's voice echoed in my head, trembling with pain and desperate love: Don't open it, Luna. Not this. Please, not this.I flinched back. Was it a hallucination again? Another shadow cast by my broken mind, another trick of grief and exhaustion? Or was he truly here, tethered to this curse like the thousand other souls I had seen trapped in my vision? I didn't know anymore. The line between memory and madness had blurred beyond recognitio
CROWNED BY BLOOD Chapter 55: The Hollow Thread
The archives beneath Hollowshade were colder than I remembered. Each step down the spiraling stone staircase drained warmth from my bones, dust clinging to the air like ash. I moved past broken stone reliefs, a warrior with his sword raised, a mother cradling a child whose features had been erased by time. The sight made my heart clench. My own children Alexander, Seraphina, Kai Jr. were they destined for such obscurity?The hollowed-out tomes lined the walls like ribs of some great beast, their knowledge consumed by flame or rot. Only their bindings remained, leather covers faded to the color of old bone. Deeper into the restricted wing I went, where shadows bled from the walls like wounds. The darkness had weight, pressing against my skin like oil. My fingertips brushed old glyphs etched by hands long buried, feeling the faint vibration of magic still clinging to the stone.Celestina's voice echoed in my mind: "Some knowledge buries more than it reveals." But I had no choice. Peace
CROWNED BY BLOOD Chapter 54: The Cracks Within
The night has teeth.It doesn’t fall gently anymore; it gnashes at the windows, hissing through the cracks of Hollowshade like it’s hunting something. Or someone.I haven’t slept. Not really. I rest, I close my eyes, but my body never lets go of the tension in my spine. My mind floats half-awake, half-braced. Waiting.Something is terribly wrong with my children. I know it. I feel it in my blood, the same way a mother can feel her child’s pain before the scream. But this is deeper than pain. This is pulling. Something is pulling at them, from the inside out.And it’s starting to pull at me, too.Celestine finds me before dawn. She doesn’t knock. She never does when it’s serious.She glides into my observatory like a stormcloud with silver hair, her robes a shade too dark for morning. There’s no tea. No gentle “my darling.” No comforting stories of the old days.Just her pale hand holding a single thread of silver dust.“Something old is leaking through,” she says, without preamble. “S
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